


affirmation, appreciation

by pearwaldorf



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Blessings, Blessings that look a little like temptations, Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, in that they're a little more physical than normal, minor Aziraphale/OFC, reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22298932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearwaldorf/pseuds/pearwaldorf
Summary: “Why in anybody’s name would I be jealous? We’re going home together, aren’t we? Couldn’t be rid of you if I tried.” Crowley thinks he’s achieved the appropriate nonchalant tone. It’s not a thing. Really.“That is true, but you wouldn’t have brought it up if it didn’t bother you. What’s wrong, darling?”“You never do that with me.” It sounds awfully sulky when put like that, as if he didn’t already have everything he wants. But he is churlish, ungrateful, and apparently never satisfied.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 203
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner





	affirmation, appreciation

Even though they don’t have jobs anymore, sometimes Crowley and Aziraphale do still work on a freelance basis. It’s good to keep one’s hand in, if only out of professional pride. And with no more strictures or regulations governing what angels and demons are supposed to do, it actually works out better than before.

Aziraphale has that look about him, the slightly frowny one he gets when he feels an opportunity for a blessing. It’s a little odd to see here, given they’re in a bar—excuse him—gastropub. (The beer is perfectly fine, but apparently the food is the real attraction.)

He turns to Crowley and looks at him very seriously. “Darling?”

“Yes, angel?”

“You know I love you, regardless of however it might look to the contrary, yes?”

“I don’t know what this is about, but I do.”

“Good.” He smiles and gives Crowley a kiss on the cheek before sliding out of their booth. A snap of his fingers, and his hair and outfit update to something approaching contemporary. It’s actually quite debonair, and suits the angel much more than he expected.

Aziraphale heads towards the corner of the bar where a woman is sitting by herself. She’s perfectly attractive, even if her hair and makeup are at least a decade out of style.

 _Of course the angel would be drawn to the fustiest person here_ , he thinks, before he takes another look and immediately regrets the thought. A marriage that should have been put out of its misery ages ago, a shitrag ex-husband who tried to stiff his wife out of support after a lifetime of being a mum. All she wants to do tonight is have a drink, feel desirable to somebody, anybody. No wonder Aziraphale felt moved to help.

He leans in towards her, showing interest, but not too much, as they strike up a conversation. There are sympathetic nods, a bit of righteous anger, the touch of a hand. She turns towards him like a plant starved of sunlight, and something in Crowley’s hindbrain flares, irrationally covetous.

Aziraphale beckons a server over to take their order. She says something but hesitates when Aziraphale looks at her, and changes her mind. He twines her fingers in his and murmurs something that makes her blush.

At this point Crowley is bluescreening, because when did the angel acquire _game_ , and why has he never used it on him? Then he gets annoyed, because there’s absolutely no reason Aziraphale should need to. (Regardless, he still wants it.)

Their order arrives, and Crowley gawps a little bit. There’s an elaborate skyscraper of a burger, a container of chips closer to a bucket, and a chocolate shake. Towards the end of the meal, Aziraphale starts dipping chips in the shake and feeding them to her. They’re both laughing, and it’s amazing how much happier the woman looks now that somebody’s paid some kind attention to her.

She whispers something into Aziraphale’s ear and heads off, presumably to the toilets. He takes care of the bill and heads in the same direction.

Crowley leans back against the seat and crosses his arms in a manner that is absolutely not petulant. What does he care if the angel decides the blessing needs a little corporeal encouragement to stick? It’s not like that woman’s going to go home with him at the end of the night. There’s no reason for concern.

Aziraphale comes back alone and scoots back into the booth. His hair is mussed and there’s a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Crowley glowers.

“Don’t look at me like that. I kissed her good night and she’ll find a lovely, energetic young man to have a ‘rebound relationship’ with, I believe is the term.”

“What kind of good-night kiss results in that?” Despite himself, Crowley takes a napkin and wipes off the lipstick.

“A very enthusiastic one! It would have been rude to refuse.” Aziraphale looks at Crowley like he’s the one who should know better, and it’s such a bastard thing to do his heart squishes with fondness. “And I think the last time she bought lipstick they hadn’t invented the kiss-proof kind yet.”

“Well, that’s just barbarous,” Crowley replies. He concentrates, and a Scratchcard containing enough prize money for a trip to Sephora and a fancy lingerie store mysteriously appears in her coat pocket.

“Ready to go, then?” Crowley nods and they head out.

He loops his arm into Aziraphale’s as they walk. It’s not something he normally does, but he’s feeling a bit possessive, after that display.

“You’ve been very quiet. What’s on your mind, dear?”

“Where did you learn—” he makes a vague gesture, “all that?”

Aziraphale turns towards him, comprehension and mischief dancing in his eyes. “Are you jealous, Crowley?”

“Why in anybody’s name would I be jealous? We’re going home together, aren’t we? Couldn’t be rid of you if I tried.” He thinks he’s achieved the appropriate nonchalant tone. It’s not a thing. Really.

“That is true, but you wouldn’t have brought it up if it didn’t bother you. What’s wrong, darling?” The mirth in his eyes is gone, replaced by concern.

“You never do that with me.” It sounds awfully sulky when put like that, as if he didn’t already have everything he wants. But he is churlish, ungrateful, and apparently never satisfied.

Aziraphale looks confused for a moment, and then the realisation happens. “Oh, dearheart. I’m terribly dense sometimes, and I am sorry for it.” Aziraphale kisses him, soft and apologetic. “I thought I’d made it plain, but apparently not.”

“Made what plain?”

“How much I adore you, of course.” He takes Crowley’s hand, mouth brushing at Crowley’s knuckles. “How beautiful you are.” Aziraphale’s fingers curling on his lapel, pulling him in for a peck on the cheek. “How I desire you, always.” His lips, right against Crowley’s ear, making him shiver.

Aziraphale laces their fingers together, tugs him forward gently. “I see I have a great deal to make up to you, so we should get started.”

“On what?”

His expression is coy. “Why, me showing my appreciation for you,” he says, as if it were obvious.

Crowley rolls his eyes in exasperated fondness. “For you, angel, I’ll endure somehow.”

Aziraphale hooks his arm into Crowley’s and curls it against his torso, smiling brilliantly all the while. “Of that I have no doubt.”

**Author's Note:**

> [This](https://twitter.com/WingsArchangel/status/1162688490204778497) is what I'm envisioning for Aziraphale's appearance. Who wouldn't be cheered up looking at that?


End file.
